


Another Love

by RunningHaunted



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, avengers endgame - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War, M/M, PTSD, Parallel Universes, Pre Iron Man 1, Protective Steve, Sad boy Steve, Steve Needs a Hug, They both need a Hug, Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, a trip down memory lane, no beta we die like men, post Endgame, questionable science, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 18:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18643351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningHaunted/pseuds/RunningHaunted
Summary: “Hey, are you alright?”It takes a moment until he registers that the question is aimed at him and not just part of the constant party-chatter going on around him. Tony’s head moves sluggishly towards the voice, then back to his half empty glass.He does a double take.—-OR the one where Tony Stark doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, Steve is angsty as hell, a questionable magician does/did some magic, and Peter would like to nope out





	Another Love

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for everyone who left a comment on my last fic! You guys are motivating as hell! I hereby sacrifice a cookie as tribute to ya all!! ^^

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

It takes a moment until he registers that the question is aimed at him and not just part of the constant party-chatter going on everywhere. Tony’s head moves sluggishly towards the voice, then back to his half empty glass.

 

He does a double take.

 

“Well, hey there, hot stuff. Definitely alright now.” He slurs, abandoning the rest of the sinfully expensive Whiskey some hot chick had handed him in favor of looking the stranger up and down. Tall, decidedly not dark, but still handsome. “My, who might you be?”

 

The man smiles. It looks somewhat strange, but Tony’s had too many drinks to decipher the emotion behind it.

 

Blinking around the alcohol-induced fog in his head is difficult enough as it is. He counts it a win that he’s still lucid considering it’s already past 2am. Howard would be proud.

 

(Not really. But a guy can dream.)

 

“Steve” The man says. “Nice to... meet you.”

 

Tony smirks, gesturing at the bar keeper for two more of... whatever he just had.

 

Stev- Mister Handsome— because there’s no sense in trying to remember the name come morning— doesn’t resist when Tony pulls him back towards the throng of people and swaying bodies, but the next drink he gets them is (surprisingly) cherry coke with no alcohol which is... slightly disappointing.

 

But he doesn’t say anything, because the stranger looks good and doesn’t try putting his hands all over him immediately.

 

When the blackout comes he’s stumbling away from the dance floor with a strong arm holding him up and soft whispers in his ear that make him wanna snap that he’s not a little kid, thank you. But doing so would require using the muscles in his throat, and those are currently a little busy trying to keep all the booze down.

 

Futile attempt though, because half a second later he empties his stomach’s contents onto the floor.

 

And that’s about all he remembers later on.

 

—-

 

He wakes up alone with the sun stinging his eyes and a headache thumping against the inside of his skull. He doesn’t move yet, just tries fighting down the nausea accompanying the massive hangover, and wonders distantly how he got back to his own house in the first place.

 

“Jarvis, time.”

 

“It is currently 3 in the afternoon, sir. Today’s weather is sunny with storm clouds rolling in from the east. I estimate a 90% chance of rain later today. A thunderstorm with 67% probability. I have also taken the liberty to inform Miss Potts of your absence at today’s charity event.” The AI answers dutifully.

 

Tony takes a moment to work through the last part, replays it in his head, then asks: “Who said I wasn’t going to the charity event?”

“Mr Rogers, sir. Shall I have medicine laid out for your headache?”

 

“Mr-Who?” Tony is self-aware enough to admit that he usually never takes the time to remember people’s names. However, he also usually knows those of the people with access to his schedule and decisions on whether he attends a certain event or not. 

 

Never mind that he hadn’t planned on attending this one in the first place. But it’s the principle of things.

 

“Mr Rogers, sir.” Jarvis repeats like Tony was a particularly dumb specimen of the human race. “The both of you arrived today at precisely 4:49am. According to protocol Miss Potts intended to inform you of his arrival yesterday.”

 

So that’s what all those calls had been about... maybe he should have picked up after all.

 

“Ok ok ok, that still doesn’t explain nearly enough, buddy.” Tony says, unsure if he should be amused or concerned over whether his AI is still functioning properly. “What’s the deal with him making decisions over my very crammed schedule?”

 

He swings his legs out of bed with a groan, taking a moment to adjust and for his head to stop spinning before slipping towards the bathroom.

 

“Mr Rogers notified me that he has been placed as your personal assistant of sorts. The information he provided corresponded with the updated version Ms Potts provided yesterday.”

 

Tony freezes over the sink, his hands lathered with pearlescent soap. “Do you mean to tell me Pepper quit?”

 

Honestly, it wouldn’t be a surprise at this point. He put her through enough shit on a daily basis, even without the once-in-a-month scandals.

 

“Not at all, sir.” Tony relaxes. “To my knowledge an agency with questionable background assigned him to you. Ms Potts was quite outraged about it if I recall correctly, however, she also asked me to tell you that you should ‘Deal with it like a responsible adult.’ And that she’ll be waiting in her office if you ‘feel the need to let me know that I do not have to arrange a funeral for our CEO’”.

 

Pepper’s imitation seemed to have been directly extracted from various voice messages and Tony winced internally at the annoyance in her tone. That woman is as passive aggressive as one person could possibly get and, quite frankly, she tends to scare him.

 

“Questionable background? Jar, that’s half-assed research! Come on buddy, don’t disappoint me here.”

“On it, sir.”

 

When he exits the bedroom the scent of pancakes and eggs hits his nostrils and he almost gags.

 

What. The. Fuck?

 

“Jarvis, did you order breakfast?” He hisses, eyeing the ceiling accusingly. Maybe he should have cut back on the sass when designing him...

 

“Not at all. Mr Rogers thought it would be best to cook something since you apparently.. _lost_.. all your food early this morning to a concoction of alcohol. And I must agree. According to data the human body should-“

 

“Hold your horses!” He cuts the AI off, picking up his pace as he starts towards the kitchen. Because Jarvis can’t possibly mean that-

 

That’s exactly what he meant, apparently.

 

When Tony half runs, half slides into the kitchen there’s a familiar guy hovering over the stove. He turns with a smile, brandishing a fork and a spoon and... wow, the pills Tony had accepted from a shady waiter yesterday must have been good.

 

Because this looked like-

 

“Oh, you’re awake. I made pancakes. And I found a hangover cure, there.” The blond man pointed to an aspirin on the table, completely ignoring Tony, even though his jaw must look like it’s about to hit the floor.

 

“Who in the seven hells are you!?”

 

The man startles a little. “Right, sorry. I completely forgot! You probably don’t remember from yesterday, but..” Tall and handsome puts down the cutlery and offers his right hand with a sheepish grin. “I’m Steven Grant Rogers, your new assistant. Pleased to meet you.”

 

No. Fucking. Way.

 

—-

 

Yes way.

 

That’s Captain America in his kitchen. Alive, very much not-dead and surprisingly adamant about staying by Tony’s side because “you’re Howards son. It’s my duty to protect you.”

 

Right. How about no.

 

There’s no way in hell that that is the reason. Tony might be permanently drunk and—occasionally — stoned, but there’s still a reason why SI remains at the top of the market. And no, it’s not because he’s charming as fuck. 

 

But... that’s also Captain America in his kitchen and he has so many questions.

 

He lets all concerns fade to the background for now, launching into an endless stream of questions.

 

Most of which are left unanswered.

 

—-

 

Tony makes a deal with... Cap. However surreal that sounds.

 

Steve can stay with Tony, and in return Tony gets to design new armor for the super soldier, experiment with a whole new set of theories and ideas for missiles, bombs and what-not.

 

Rhodey is happy with all the new stuff for the military. Cap? Not so much. But he doesn’t protest, either.

 

—-

 

With everything Tony had known about Steve Rogers that should have been his first clue.

 

Alas, he’d been too caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

 

—-

 

The Jericho missile is his newest invention and he cheers a little when he finishes the blueprints. It’s nothing too world-changing, but he’s somewhat proud of it nonetheless.

 

Steve pokes his head in through the lab entrance, a pleased smile stretching his lips when he catches Tony’s grin. “Anything new?”

 

“Fuck yeah! Look at this baby! Destruction 2.0!”

 

Steve takes one look at the blueprints and the smile is wiped off his face. “Jericho” he says flatly, a far off look entering his eyes.

 

Tony frowns, tapping the super soldier’s shoulder. He’s too concerned to linger over the fact that Steve actually leans into the touch instead of moving away. “The name that bad?”

 

Cap shakes his head, then offers him a strained smile. “No. Just... reminds me of something.”

 

Tony nods, too inexperienced in offering comfort to manage anything else. “You don’t have to stay down here if you don’t want to, you know?”

 

The barked laugh following that statement catches Tony off guard, but Steve says nothing else and settles down on the stool beside him.

 

He also opts to ignore the slight dents in the metal table where Cap had grabbed for support.

 

—-

 

The changes are... disconcerting.

 

Pepper is the first to mention anything.

 

—-

 

“No scandal in almost two months.” She says on a Friday afternoon, sipping a steaming cup of espresso. “I don’t know whether you’ve been replaced by an evil clone or not.”

 

Tony hums noncommittally and continues tinkering on the prototype of the Jericho. He checks the equations again before inserting the next piece, then checks it again, curses softly, and removes it once more.

 

“I think I like your evil clone better.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes, puts down the screwdriver, and fixes Pepper with the most annoyed look he can muster. She usually just laughs at them though, which makes him suspect he doesn’t look very fearful at all.

 

“ I’m putting some effort into this, Pep. Isn’t that what you’ve been bugging me about for years?”

 

“Sure” she says “But the 180 you pulled on us makes even Obadiah fret like a school boy.”

 

Tony smirks. “If you guys want a scandal, you know I’m happy to provide.”

 

Pepper raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I trust Mr Rogers knows how to keep you in line.”

 

The mention of the blond super soldier makes him squawk. “Jarvis, time!”

 

“It is currently 5:36pm. Shall I inform Mr Rogers that you’ll be late?”

 

“Fuck no!” Tony yelped, jumping into a standing position and shooting Pepper an apologetic look. “Sorry, me has got a date in 4 minutes.”

 

As he sprints out of the room and up the staircase he almost misses Pepper say something along the lines of ‘whipped’.

 

Which, uhm, so not true!?

 

—-

 

It is so true.

 

The truth comes to Tony about 50 minutes later when he makes a wholly inappropriate joke while their watching Pretty Woman. Steve throws his head back and laughs. The couch vibrates with it, the sound so deep and rich that Tony wants to reach out and do... something.

 

Which he does, because he’s always been that impulsive.

 

Rogers stops laughing the second Tony’s lips touch his, and he lingers only for the fraction of a second before pulling back, giving the blond space in case he wants to bolt or— which wouldn’t be preferred if one considers the super strength and all— punch him.

 

Steve does neither.

 

He just stares at Tony with an expression so lost and hopeless that it makes Tony’s heart ache. (Ha, and here he was, thinking he didn’t even have one.)

 

Then, before Tony can jump into a rambling apology or make this into a joke, Steve surges forward and all words die a sweet death on his tongue.

 

There’s not much talking after that.

 

—-

 

Tony wakes to the sound of whimpers and thrashing beside him.

 

He jolts, sits up, sand tries to reorient himself in the dark.

 

It takes only a few seconds for everything to come back, and when it does, Tony scrambles sideways to dodge the incoming fist with a speed he would have found surprising on any other day. As it is, he’s just lucky that the indent in the wall isn’t his face.

 

“Steve!” He yells, falling off the bed in his haste to get away.

 

To no avail though, because it barely takes two seconds before Steve comes vaulting after him, pressing him down into the floor, his hands around Tony’s throat.

 

Fingers close around his windpipe, the blood flow to his brain gets cut off so abruptly that it leaves him reeling. Still, he tries to dislodge the supersoldier’s hold on him. To no avail.

 

(Well no shit, Sherlock. There’s a ‘super’ before ‘soldier’ for a fucking reason!)

 

The panic sets in only moments later as he feels his vision darkening around the edges and Steve still hasn’t come to. His eyes are open but unseeing. There’s so much terror and pain in those blue orbs that Tony almost forgets that his lover is about to fucking kill him and-

 

“Give him back, you bastard. Give him back. Give him back give him back-“

 

Tony grapples at his side, finds something poking out from under the nightstand and hits Captain America over the head with it.

 

It doesn’t really do much except rob him of the last strength he has and he thinks, god, I’m gonna die.

 

His arms fall at his sides, he stops struggling without wanting to and can do naught but stare into hate filled eyes while everything starts going dark and quiet.

 

Tony can feel himself going limp at the same time that Steve blinks. Once, twice.

 

And then there’s pure, unadulterated horror on his face and suddenly Tony can breathe again and there’s hands all over him, apologies tumbling from invisible lips as Tony tries and fails to catch his breath.

 

“No no nononono, Jarvis! Call an ambulance! Oh my god Tony, Tony, look at me! Please... oh god oh god god”

 

Tony continues heaving, his head spinning uncomfortably with the sensation of oxygen flowing through his brain. The dull ache around his throat is growing into a persistent burn as Steve heaves him up into a sitting position, cradling his head against his shoulder.

 

Theres something wet on his shirt. Tears, he thinks as Steve starts sobbing.

 

It takes him some minutes, but eventually his vision starts clearing up and it almost feels safe to use some of the precious air in his lungs to form words. So he does.

 

“Jarvis, no ambulance.” He croaks. “I’m fine.”

 

“Tony!” The exclamation causes him to wince and he turns his head until Steve’s face swims into focus. Still positively terrified, but now with a more healthy dose of relief mixed in. And guilt.

 

“Y’know I’m not that against choking, Cap” he wheezes “But I’d like for both of us to be conscious next time, ‘k?”

 

Steve barks a teary laugh, the hold he has on Tony impossibly gentle. Like he could break like porcelain between his fingers. And Tony is almost sure that’s inside Steve’s range of capabilities. He shudders.

 

“I’m sorry Tony, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I know” Tony says. And he really, really does.

 

—-

 

The bruises look worse than they feel and the stay a deep purple for weeks.

 

Steve winces every time he catches sight of them and keeps uttering apology after apology.

 

Steve doesn’t trust himself to fall asleep when Tony is around for months afterwards.

 

—-

 

He never talks about his nightmares either.

 

At first Tony thought they might be about the war, but then he realizes that “The War” is too loose of a term, because he catches Steve yelling almost familiar names.

 

And also his own.

 

Most of the time it’s Tony’s own name.

 

And sometimes it’s Thanos’.

 

—-

 

He asks about Thanos once.

 

The haunted look on Cap’s face and the accompanying panic attack make him forget about it fairly quickly.

 

Steve doesn’t let him out of his sight for days afterwards.

 

—-

 

Steve begs him to not go to Afghanistan.

 

It’s about the same time that Cap’s protectiveness becomes overbearing and Obadiah reminds Tony of the Stark Legacy. Something he’d almost forgotten amidst the bliss of domesticity he’d fallen into.

 

He goes to Afghanistan and renews his title as ‘Merchant of Death’. He also conveniently ignores all of Cap’s calls. He’ll be back by tomorrow anyway.

 

—-

 

He’s not back by tomorrow.

 

Instead he wakes to an indescribable amount of pain in his chest and too bright lights. Someone yanks his head around and he’s staring into a camera. Terrorists are speaking in a language he doesn’t understand and eventually the throw him in a cage.

 

He blacks out.

 

There’s a man when he comes to again.

 

“Yinsen” he introduces himself, and Tony wants so desperately to go back home. There’s a car battery buried in his chest, keeping deadly shrapnel from reaching his heart, but the fight hasn’t yet left his bones.

 

They want him to build another Jericho. He imagines Cap’s face if he would actually do it. Full of righteous disappointment.

 

So he builds something else. Something that fits better into his chest and still manages to keep him alive long enough to endure the torture they’re putting him though. 

 

The arc reactor is heavy and it’s like the wound won’t heal.

 

He doesn’t feel like he’ll survive this very long.

 

How disappointed Howard would be.

 

For the first time in ever he’s ashamed of the things he creates.

 

—-

He doesn’t have to hold on for long.

 

Barely two weeks later (Yinsen keeps count, apparently) there’s a crash outside the door.

 

Both captives scramble to their feet. Tony a little slower with the gaping hole in his body, but he manages. Thanks. He feels good enough to chew out the next best terrorists who comes through the door. Verbally, of course, but it’ll make do.

 

However, when the heavy door gets ripped out of its hinges there’s not a single terrorist inside.

 

Instead Captain America storms the room with wild eyes and a war cry in his throat and... gods, is that blood on his suit?

 

Tony almost collapses from the sheer joy and not a second passes before Steve hauls him behind him, aiming his anger at Yinsen and- hold the fuck on!

 

“No!” He yells, and Steve halts abruptly. “Don’t! He’s a friend!”

 

The super soldier backs off, but doesn’t let go. He checks Tony up and down, touching all his pulse points, then stilling over the arc reactor. Sorrow radiates off him in waves and the next thing that comes out of Steve’s mouth finally, _finally_ provides the last peace to the puzzle he hadn’t been able to solve for over a year now. 

 

“I’m so sorry Tony. I’m so sorry. I tried to keep you safe this time.”

 

—-

 

The way out of the cave is littered with bodies.

 

Tony doesn’t have to ask what happened.

 

He knows.

 

—-

 

He creates the first Iron-Man suit with Jarvis’ help. When he presents it to Steve, his reaction makes it final.

 

Tony had suspected for some time now.

 

“You’re not from here, are you?” He asks softly, and Steve looks up at him guiltily. They’re in bed, their faces illuminated by the reactor’s soft glow. Steve covers it with his hand, traces the jagged scars around it like it is the most precious thing in the world.

 

“No” he says eventually, but he doesn’t elaborate, either.

 

“Where is our Cap?”

 

“Submerged in ice.” Steve says, almost absently. “Forever. I made sure of it.”

Tony nods. “You weren’t supposed to be here for any of this, were you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Right.” His fingers card through blond hair. To any outsider it would look like he’s staring at the ceiling, but in reality he’s constructing a whole other universe behind his mind’s eye.

 

“I died, didn’t I?” He asks softly. The arm around him tightens, muscles coiling as if preparing for a fight. Then it goes limp again and the warm breath against his throat comes in stuttering bursts.

 

“...yes.”

 

“How?”

 

“You...” Steve stops, pulls a face, and settles on “ You saved the world.”

 

Tony scoffs. “Right.”

 

“You did.” Steve insists, softly. “You saved us all. You put on that stupid... thing. And you saved us.”

 

“Thing..?”

 

Steve closes his eyes. “A gauntlet, containing infinity. Thanos, he used it to erase half the universe.”

 

“And I reversed it?”

 

“No, Bruce did. But you saved us all.”

 

Tony doesn’t even pretend like that makes any sense, but he is aware that there should be serious consequences to messing with timelines like that, and that’s exactly why he voices that thought.

 

Steve hums and takes his hand. “I returned the space stone to its original timeline after you- after.” he corrects himself. “And then I went to a magician who possessed the time stone, struck a bargain, and she sent me here. And i destroyed the space stone.”

 

“A parallel universe?”

 

Cap nods. “The only universe that matters. I fixed it.”

 

Tony’s heart breaks for the soldier. There’s only so many times that the human mind can be broken before it’s fractured beyond compare. Steve appears to be far beyond breaking point.

 

“It’s ok” Tony says, as gently as he can. “You’re safe now. You can rest. We’ll be fine.”

 

Steve starts weeping in earnest then, clinging to Tony like a drowning man.

 

“It will be ok.” He repeats.

—-

 

It’s not ok for a very long time, but Steve gets better, eventually.

 

Time moves on, like all things do.

 

Tony does, too.

 

—-

 

Sometimes there are snippets, pictures like dreams floating around his head; echos.

 

It’s strange, but he writes it off as his overactive imagination.

 

When he meets Peter, no, Spider-Man for the first time— suit and all— the kid startles, then scratches his head and says: “No offense, Mr Stark, but weren’t you supposed to be at my home to recruit me?”

 

And Tony laughs _laughs_ _**laughs**_ because maybe, just maybe, that magician had made some kind of mistake when Steve was sent forward in time.

 

(Not really, but it’s not like he’s going to complain.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any questions? Just ask. I probably won’t bite.


End file.
